Urick Garret
Personality Urick's a great guy until you piss him off. Cheerful, always willing to help, and generally the sort of big, burly, genial guy most kids would love to have as an uncle (the sort that picks them up with one hand for laughs). All this good cheer goes flying out the window as soon as threats to Gaia are even hinted at, and if he actually sees a Spiral? Hooboy. Also holds the Litany in very high regard, so heaven help you if you violate one of the tenants and he finds out about it. Charach especially gets his back up, though the others are quick ways to get him cranky, too. Sheet Attributes: : Physical: Strength 4, Dexterity 3, Stamina 4 : Social: Charisma 3, Manipulation 2, Appearance 1 : Mental: Perception 3, Intelligence 2, Wits 3 Abilities: : Talents: Alertness 2, Athletics 2, Brawl 4, Dodge 1, Empathy 1, Intimidation 3, Primal Urge 3, Streetwise 1 : Skills: Drive 3, Firearms 1(3), Leadership 3, Melee 1(3), Repair 2, Stealth 1, Survival 2 : Knowledges: Investigation 1, Law 1, Medicine 1, Occult 1, Rituals 2, Science 2 Advantages: : Backgrounds: Kinfolk 2, Resources 1, Rites 3, Totem 4 : Rage: 6 : Gnosis: 2 : Willpower: 6 : Renown: (Permanent/Temporary) :* Glory: 5/0 :* Honor: 3/0 :* Wisdom: 1/0 : Gifts: Smell of Man, Control Simple Machine, Razor Claws, Steel Fur, Spirit of the Fray : Rites: :* Minor Rites: Hunting Prayer, Prayer for the Prey :* Level 1 Rites: Rite of Talisman Dedication, Rite of Safe Sleeping, Rite of Silence, Bonding Rite :* Level 2 Rites: Voice of the Jackal Battle Scars: Superficial Scars, Deep Scar Merits: Daredevil (3), Huge Size (4) Flaws: Strict Carnivore (1), Hatred (BSDs) (3), Mark of the Predator (2), Intolerance (Litany Breakers) (1) Battlescars ; Superficial Scars:Through years of slaughtering Wyrmthings, Urick's hide is nearly a tapestry of scar tissue in various stages of healing. ; Deep Scar:After getting disemboweled during one particularly nasty scuffle (and going into a death-frenzy in the process) Urick has a deep, puckered scar on his lower abdomen that sometimes causes him lingering pain in times of stress. Kinfolk Urick keeps close ties with his family, having been born from two Glass Walker Kinfolk (really, if such things existed for said urrah, it could be argued he's Pure Bred). His mother and father funnel him some cash, and his sister constantly threatens to beat him up and take his ability to shift because he's such a pansy (they love each other, can't you tell?). Recently, after having returned from Dies Ultimae bootcamp, Urick has inducted his sister into the pack formed of him, Ishmael Chavez, and two other Kin. She's the heavy-weapons girl of the group, and shows a fondness for flamethrowers. Specialty: Brawl Largely through personal preference and a lot of field experience, Urick has become very, very good at messing people up with his bare hands. However, where he truly shines is Crinos combat, where he can get his claws and teeth into a foe and really show them what pain is. This isn't pretty, but gets the job done. History Urick was born on October 23, 1988 into a healthy, happy family living in Kentucky. His sister (older by two years) was as annoying as such things always are, and his parents were as aggravating as all caring parents will always be, but there were no screaming fights, no carefully ignored injuries. Indeed, they were nearly a model family. Oh, true, Urick displayed a bit of a temper during his early years of school, but his parents ignored the school counselor's "advice" of medication. They decided it would be better to teach him to control his temper instead of simply sedating him, teaching him methods to focus and divert his anger if not always constructively, at least in ways that didn't end up in anyone being beaten bloody. A kids' karate class seemed to suit everyone involved nicely. Little did they, and he, realize how useful those lessons would be to leash the rage that boiled within him. Urick was always a large boy, and this combined with his temper (and blatant disdain of "stupid" rules) often got him into conflict with authority figures. However, he never fell into bullying, instead choosing to protect those so targeted. To his mind, there was no point in proving your superiority over a weaker foe. They were no challenge to you, so why bother? But in staving off an equal or superior enemy? Now, there was the thrill. Unfortunately, this did not protect him from bureaucratic repercussions when the schoolyard bullies caught the rough edge of the boy's temper. Sadly, one such episode ended in tragedy during Urick's sophomore year in highschool. Newly 15, riding the howling wave of puberty and the adolescent rages that came with it, he lost control during an altercation on the walk home from school. In more ways than one. No human, not even a large and strong one, is a match for a Crinos in frenzy, and this most recent foe was ripped apart within a heartbeat. Luckily, there were few witnesses, and the Delirium saved what could have been a ghastly breach of the Veil. It was decided by witnesses and authorities that both victim and assailant had been thrown into the street during the altercation and run over by a passing truck, and there wasn't enough evidence to connect any one person in particular with the death. Also luckily, the cub's kin-fetch had managed to find nearby Glasswalkers before he could run too badly amok, though they were far too late to save his first victim. They subdued the enraged youngster and took him to a place of safety, there to teach him some of the ways of this strange new world. In perhaps a bizarre twist, it turned out his parents were less surprised about the strange events than Urick himself was, themselves both being what he learned were called Kinfolk, there to assist the garou in worldly matters while the battle against the Wyrm raged. And the youngster immediately attached himself to that battle with all the fervor of a fanatic. For him, it was not merely a war, but a just crusade to purge corruption and horror from the world. He took to the Litany with nearly as much enthusiasm, finally confronted with rules that had more sense to them than "because I said so," and actually had bearing on his life. Born as the moon charged headlong towards full, it didn't take spirits to tell the rest of his tribe that Urick was Ahroun. His temperament was enough in itself, and he was forced to learn early on that there were simply some people you didn't talk back to. It was a lesson that he had to learn a couple times, and this lesson earned him a few scars (as well as the cub name Scream-and-Leap), but also a new sense of restraint, and no permanent damage. One thing it really taught him was that the consequences of this new life were quite a bit more dangerous than his old one. Whereas before he would be able to get off with a stern talking to or a simple "time out," here he could be beaten, mangled, even killed. A sobering lesson indeed, though it did little to quell his belief that being wrong was a thing to be corrected, by force if need be. Luckily, the cub was willing to listen to his elders for the most part, only growling as much as any other, and managing not to get himself killed in those battles with Wyrm-things that he bore witness to. However, once the taste of battle touched his tongue, it was tricky to keep him reined in. There were threats loose in the world that needed to die! Why should he sit here and let them run loose? If he could, it was joked, the cub would chase down a tornado and wrestle it to heel. It took only the completion of his Rite of Passage to make "Hunts-the-Storm" an official title. Before his Change, Urick had always been an active boy. While not a "jock" in the traditional sense, it was blatantly true that he'd rather be out charging around the field than staying at home and reading. While his martial-arts classes had helped to expend some of this energy, they could only do so much. Luckily, this life of physical activity served him well as a fledgling garou. He was able to keep up without tiring, adapted to the hulking war-form without undue difficulty, and even began to push his new limits without encouragement from his elders. There was so much more he could do, now! Though he will probably never live down the game of Frisbee among his fellow cubs. It seemed perfectly rational to chase the thing down in lupus form to him! Probably just one more reason to seek the road after his Rite... While he had learned some skill at unarmed combat before his Change, under his Elders' tutelage he also picked up the rudiments of armed battle, as well as which end of a gun to point at the enemy. Though he wasn't the best of shots (truth be told, he usually did better beating things with the gun), at least he didn't tend to shoot his allies. In the end, however, bare claws suited the young garou the most, and he left the arenas of blade and bullet to those that preferred them. After all, when the scent of battle was in the air, he tended to forget such things in favor of digging his claws into whatever enemy he was confronting at the time. Though there were times when the bloodlust would prove too strong, the beast within running unchecked, and even those he called friend would have to run for cover. Self-control only goes so far, when the stink of blood and the howl of Rage mix in the heart of a Full Moon. It was this tendency to mangle anything within reach that delayed the completion of Urick's Rite of Passage for nearly a year. But, eventually, he learned how to at least blunt the edges of his battle-fury, if not dull them completely. He was even granted the Rite of Wounding after managing to single-handedly take down a fairly nasty fomor, taking only a bloody gouge across the forehead that removed half his ear, but otherwise left him undamaged. In a way, that fight had been a test in itself, his mentor and peers standing by just in case things got bad. But he dispatched the foe, earning the first of his Battlescars and his first true taste of combat. After finally being named Cliath, Urick took to wandering. Sitting guard simply didn't agree with him. Why wait for the enemy to charge when you could hunt it down first? Though it took some arguing on his part (and at least one fight), the young Ahroun was able to convince his elders that he would be of greatest aid to Gaia on the road. He saw it as a mission, really. His cause, as it were, to beard the dragon in its lair, to hunt down the Wyrm instead of merely holding against it. While he felt the call of packmates as strongly as any, he believed his duty to Gaia outweighed any personal desires, and that there were other places, other people, which needed him more than his hometown. As a sort of going-away present, the Glasswalkers of his caern acquired a motorcycle for the young garou and made learning to drive it his last test before leaving. This and several years' worth of pent up hunting fervor set the young Ahroun along the first steps of his crusade, from city to city, caern to caern. As he went, he battled the Wyrm wherever he found it, following trails of rumor, calls for aid, and the stink of corruption, simply not staying in one place long enough for the question of his lack of rank to come up. Along the way, he made friends, lost friends, nearly lost his life more than once. One incident in particular stands out, among the tapestry of scars that dot his hide. Deep in the desert of Texas, a hive had dug deep, and decided to kidnap a recent crop of cubs from the local sept. Urick arrived in town just as the war party was about to roll out, and joined them without hesitation. It was he that led the charge down into the tunnels. It was he that killed the one cub that had turned, and another that was simply too far broken to be recovered, carrying the surviving two out on his back in Hispo even with a ragged wound in his belly and his blood leaving a grisly trail behind. The Theurges barely managed to heal him in time. Another such incident took place only a little further north, involving a truly horrific fomor that was something like a hydra, with far too many gnawing, digging heads on one bulging, wormlike body. He watched one compatriot get ripped in half, another bitten in half, and nearly died on the spot as the creature tried to bite through his ribcage to reach his heart. It almost succeeded, but the death-frenzy it triggered ended with the berserk Ahroun burrowing down its gullet with claws flashing, ripping his way free from its belly before succumbing to his wounds and collapsing. Again, Gaia smiled, and he survived, the star-shaped scar on his chest a blatant reminder of selfless sacrifice. And, after two years of travel and battle, he came to the sept of the Quiet Sun in Washington, lured by tales of a city locked in bitter war with horrors beyond fable, arriving in mid March 2008. After arriving, he'd been detailed to trying to get the Glass Walker safehouse secure. Since then he was involved in several aggressive actions, including a raid on a Vampire haven, the recovery of the local Gaian elder, who had been kidnapped by Spirals, and a raid on a weapons-shipment coming through Spiral-kin hands. During this little war, the question of rank came up, partially because of his accomplishments in battle and partially because he had taken to simply bellowing orders in the field and damn the chain of command. But he led well, fought well, and eventually it was judged that his actions had been, if not instrumental to the Garou victory over the nearby hive, at least a great assistance. And the Cliath became a rather surprised Fostern, taking the deedname that he carries even now, ~He-That-Falls-Upon-Gaia's-Foes-Like-Unto-A-Hammer-of-Iron~. It was this change that brought Urick to thinking about what authority really meant. Certainly, he had led in battle, but it had been a seat-of-the-pants, instinctual thing, more unconscious tactics than any great plan. He decided, if he was to lead, then he would need to know how. One of his subordinates in that war, a fledgeling Theurge by the name of Ishmael Chavez, both left at this time to attend the "boot camp" of Dies Ultimae, the camp of Glass Walkers devoted to the singular purpose of fighting the Wyrm through whatever means were necessary. It was there, in Australia, that he learned of strategy, of deployment, and of how to utilize everything available in the battle against horror and evil. He learned the Rite of Bonding, to bring even the Kin into the War, and regarded them as his most precious asset. And now, resuming his path of thunderous purgation with his lieutenant and his Kin at his back, the Iron Ahroun comes to Crystal Springs, determined to burn the taint of corruption from this place before it has a chance to take root and fester. Category:Garou Category:Ahrouns Category:Homid Category:Dies Ultimae Category:Glass Walkers Category:Fostern Category:Current PCs